I love water sports. I don’t get out to do them very often because in general, I’m not very athletic and my family preferred water sports where you stayed nice and dry; like sailing.
I always tried to tip the boat.
So three years ago when Al brought the jet ski up with him to Pismo I was determined to try and ride it. Now, this was a stand up jet ski, one where you have to stand up and stay balanced. It isn’t like a sit down ski or seadoo where if you just hang on and don’t drive balls out (like one blogger I may know) you generally don’t get thrown off the ski and have to chase it down.
But where’s the fun in that?
Back to three years ago; Al brought the jet ski with him and I managed to shimmy into a wetsuit in order to attempt to wrestle the thing. As we put it into the water and Al gave me directions, I decided I would try and take it out past the shore break before attempting to stand up.
It went something like this:
Needless to say, I never got to a point where I could stand up. Or even attempt standing up. After being beaten by 6 foot swells for half an hour I turned around and came back to shore. Where Al promptly hopped on the ski and drove it around like it was a fret board and he was Jimmy Hendrix.
There are few people in the world who I’ve flipped off. Albert is one of them.
Last year, Al broke his foot so no attempts were made at riding the jet ski made.
This year, Al brought out the ski himself; after flitting about the ocean for about thirty minutes he brought it back into shore, “You gonna try it Jess?”
I eye him wearily, I had already begrudgingly decided it would probably be a better idea not to.
“It’s really perfect for it right now. If you get past the shore break you’re fine.”
I smile, “Don’t you remember how that went last time?”
“You’ll be fine.”
I’m sure, dear readers, you can tell how much convincing it took.
So I get in the water, Al gives me a refresher course and I head out to sea. Once again, I am trying to get out past the break water. The first few waves I make it through just fine. I am out to a point where the waves aren’t quite cresting yet, and I am coming up on one which I can’t quite make up my mind about. It appears as though it’s getting ready to crest but hasn’t quite taken on the form of a solid wall. I decided to try and beat it, hoping to simply come over the top and down the back before the wave is completely vertical. I gunned the throttle.
Opps.
It appears I made the wrong decision. As I come up the wave, the ski flies into the air, kicking the back end out and away from me. Somehow I have enough sense just to let the thing go and I sink to the bottom under the wave. When I pop up again the ski is about five feet away from me and rolled over in the wave. I swim over to it, rengage the safety and try to start it up.
Nothing.
I pull back on the throttle again, still nothing.
Crap.
I’ve tried surfing and had a little bit of success. I’ve now tried riding a jet ski twice with hardly any success. So what’s the harm in combining the two?
I surfed the ski into shore.
It wasn’t until I saw Al’s face that I realized how big a mistake I had made.
You see, Al is one of the most laid back and relaxed people I know. I don’t think I have ever seen him actually angry, or if I have ever seen him stress out or have a panic attack. Suffice it to say, if he looks a little worried there is a good chance your life may have recently been in danger.
He was a little worried.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, the ski won’t start.” He clearly doesn’t care about the ski not starting.
“It looked like it landed on top of you.”
I laugh, “Nope, I sank underneath it.”
We pull the ski in and I am greeted by Paul, who just came back from getting his board shorts on.
“Did you get a picture?”
“No! I ran inside to get shorts on, I thought I was going to have to swim after you.”
Aww. Brownie points for being a good husband, but epic blogger fail.
The ski is pulled in and Al gets to work. It becomes very clear there will be no more riding today; something in the engine got fouled up in my unintentional acrobatics.
Tomorrow, however, is another story.
Al gets the ski running again and I take it out again with stern instructions not to try and take the waves head on. I am a little more choosy in my path and I actually make it out past the shore break! Yay!
I tried to stand up twice, but the waters were still too rough to manage it. I spent about forty five minutes seated on the ski practicing steering (important), jumping waves on purpose (fun), and (most importantly) landing the jumps. I call it a win for me.
Of course, then Al got on the ski again.
I managed not to flip him off this time.
Continuing the adventure,
Jessica
Jess Boctor 
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